Honest Betrayals
by Ophelia-Speaks
Summary: The CSIs must come together to search for the killer of a friend. Once dormant hearts are awakened and the hunt for a killer takes a surprising turn...
1. Prelude to a Scream

**Author's Note:**

**Wow… this is my first ever fic. I am so proud of myself! Well if you like it or don't like it, that's up to you. I would appreciate reviews from everyone, but it's not necessary. I just want you guys to enjoy a little quality time with the guys (and gals haha)from my favorite show. Well, I love Grissom and Catherine (it was hard to decide between him and Warrick actually because they are both so good with Catherine… hmmm…). I tried to make this fic mostly accurate to the personalities of the original characters, but some alterations were necessary… Sorry if I upset any of you! Well, without further ado, here is the prologue to my first ever fanfic!**

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She was perfect. The One. He knew from the first moment he laid eyes on her. The soft glow of the desk lamp illuminated her feminine features, casting shadows on her porcelain skin. She was delicate and tough, smooth and sharp. "Altogether contradicting" he though to himself, "but utterly tempting."She pretended not to notice him, not to _feel _him there; but he knew she was completely aware of him. He could see it in the casual glance over her shoulder, and in the graceful arch of her neck while she wrote. She was so intuitive. He knew this right away. Oh how he loved her, and tonight he would tell her so.The sight of her only confirmed his belief. Yes, she was the one. And tonight was _the_ night.

Moonlight bathed the spot where he crouched before her window. The night was cool and his breath came in short clouds of fog. The crickets played their familiar symphony to the stars while clouds danced across the sky. He had been watching her for three long nights now, and the excitement was overwhelming him. He told himself that he would not allow his anticipation to destroy his plan, but he was so anxious, _so-anxious_, to wrap his hands around that silky throat, and hear the sound of her voice for the first time. The last time.

The crunch of his footsteps on the gravel drive threatened his position. She slowly rose from her seat at the desk in her bedroom and walked to the window where only moments before he had been watching her. He made his way slowly, _cautiously_, to the rear of the house. There the back door was unlocked, as he had discovered in the past nights. He silently slipped inside, padded the sixteen plush-carpeted steps to her bedroom door, and finally heard the sound of Sara Sidle's sweet, throaty scream before all was silent once more.


	2. The Locket

The flashing lights of the police cars painted the crime scene a garish red a blue. Gil Grissom stepped out of his SUV onto the slightly unkempt lawn. His face was stricken and pale, a startling contrast to his usual stoic composure. He slowly scanned the scene, noting the presence of both Detective Jim Brass, and CSI level three Warrick Brown, standing on the sidewalk in silent grief.

Headlights cut through the night briefly, then vanished with the sound of a car door slamming. He turned to see Catherine Willows rushing towards him across the darkened street. The darkness did nothing to hide the intense pain in her eyes, or the fresh traces of tears upon her face; their salty tracks meandering along the contours of her cheek.

Upon reaching him, Catherine swiftly embraced Grissom tightly, her small body shaking with sadness. After pulling away, both she and Gil looked towards Sara's house and took a deep breath; the night had just begun.

Grissom assigned Warrick to the back of the house, and Nick, who had just arrived, to the front. He and Catherine would process the inside of Sara's home. Somewhere in the dark a siren wailed, but tonight there was only one crime scene, only one crime.

The first thing Grissom noticed as he entered was the overwhelming smell of copper in the stagnant air that felt like death. "Blood" Catherine murmured "lots of it." They carefully removed gloves from their kits and pulled them on. The beams of their flashlights illuminated the path to Sara's bedroom, where they knew her body lay.

"Body's been positioned" Catherine said as they slowly entered the room. "Torn sheets binding the hands and feet of the victim" Grissom murmured. They could not think of her as Sara, not now, not when they had a job to do. They had to catch a murderer.

They went about collecting evidence and analyzing the various details of the scene. Catherine crouched to examine a spatter of blood on the wall next to the dresser. On the floor a glint of metal caught her attention. She reached down and pulled a large kitchen knife from underneath the bed, dripping with blood. "Gil! It looks like I've found the murder weapon" she called. After bagging it as evidence, she stopped before getting up. There, on the floor, lay a small, heart-shaped locket on a simple gold chain. She remembered the same necklace around her friend's neck and began to weep silently. Gil looked over and saw the way Catherine's small shoulders shook with her tears. He suddenly had an overwhelming urge to hold her; to soothe away this raw vulnerability. He placed a hand on the small of her back and the fragile grace of her pale face shook him. So much so that when he asked "Are you alright?" his voice trembled with emotion. Her blue eyes swam with as yet unshed tears, but she nodded and rose. "Let's get this bastard" she said through clenched teeth, and they both walked from the room; Catherine's fist tightly clutching the locket, still warm from adorning Sara's neck.


	3. Silence and Secrets

Grissom paced the tight confines of his cool office restlessly, his feet keeping a steady rhythm with the syncopated _click-click-click_ of his pen. His mind raced endlessly, thoughts of Sara, of her death, and of the innumerable unanswered questions this case continued to present. Who was the killer? Had she known him? Was he watching her? Why were there no defensive wounds on her body? These thoughts ceaselessly hounded him, and his brain persistently ached in his skull.

Catherine quietly waited at the door to his office, her face a disquieting contrast from the shattered composure of the previous evening. Her eyes followed his agitated movements, and she silently prayed that he would be able to sleep, or at least get some rest, even though she knew that she could not. Last night's two hours of stolen sleep were fitful, and filled with images of her friend's body. Nightmares would plague her tonight, and every night until Sara's killer was caught. She longed to have someone to talk to. Someone to hold her until she fell asleep, and comfort her when her screams pierced the still night. Instead she would go home to her empty bed, kiss Lindsay goodnight, and try to steal even a brief moment of reprieve from the night's terrors.

Gil sensed her presence and quickly looked up. Her eyes were a deep, mesmerizing blue, and they never ceased to amaze him. But what he saw there startled him. The swift stab of need in the depths of her eyes was like a sapphire flame. For an instant her eyes were filled with hunger, and want, and it was this that interrupted his thoughts, and stole his breath. She hastily averted her eyes and fidgeted with the large manila envelope in her hands. He patiently waited for her to speak, all the while watching the way her strawberry-blonde hair framed her delicate face. She cleared her throat and looked up at him, her eyes betraying nothing.

"Preliminary reports show that there was no forced entry. Looks like the back door was unlocked."

"That's pretty unusual for Sara. She's always been extremely cautious."

"I know. That's why I checked it again myself. This guy either A: is an expert locksmith, B: used a key, or C: which is perhaps the most frightening prospect, she let him in."

"But why would she let him in? Unless she knew the guy, Sara would never do that."

"I know Gil. But maybe we should investigate Sara's friends, relatives, everyone she would have trusted enough to let into her home."

"We've got a lot of work to do."

Catherine pulled into Sara's driveway for the second time in 48 hours. It was strange, she thought, that she still expected Sara to open the door for her with that silly grin; to welcome her into her home, and to talk with her about anything and everything. She rested her head on the cool steering wheel of her Denali and took a deep breath. She tried to reassure herself that they would find the killer; but with every minute evidence disappeared, and Sara's murderer could be further and further from Vegas, and from her grasp.

She used her key to unlock the door and walked slowly into the living room. There were few pictures gracing the almost clinical white walls. What few dusty frames hung there were her diploma, and several commendations from her old job in San Francisco. No photographs showed a vibrant, happy Sara, beaming from beneath a ridiculous straw hat. No family snapshots or ex-boyfriends. Catherine tried to remember if she had ever noticed this curious lack of ornamentation before, and winced when she knew she hadn't. Had Sara's life really been this lonely, this empty? She ached to hug her one more time, and to ask her what happened to her life. Why was she alone? But that moment could never come. The realization of this fact made her dizzy with sadness and with regret.

She stepped softly across the carpeted floor into the bedroom, which still smelled of blood and death. She ignored the blatantly crimson stains that painted the walls, the floor, and the mirror, and instead went to the closet door, slightly ajar. She put on the pair of latex gloves she had placed in her pocket, then gently pushed it open the rest of the way. She pushed aside the clothes dangling from their plain wire hangers, and reached behind them for the stack of old shoeboxes that collected dust in the far corner. There were four in all, from various stores. She opened the first box and stared at a dazzling, though unfamiliar pair of shoes. They were black, sparkling stilettos, with a towering heel and slinky straps. She whistled and made a note of her discovery. The next box held a simple pair of white tennis shoes, they looked brand new and upon looking closer Catherine saw that they were a size 8; one size too small. It wasn't until the last two boxes that she found something interesting.

The first was a bright, apple red box that felt very light, almost empty. She opened it and found a collection of newspaper clippings. They were all about the murder of a young woman in southern Nevada. Apparently she had been murdered in her home. Her body was found tied to the bed _with torn sheets. _The similarities between this murder and Sara's were striking. But when Catherine looked at the next article, she inhaled sharply. That same auburn hair, the same coffee-colored eyes, the familiar sardonic tilt of the lips in her smile; she was the mirror-image of Sara. _Audrey Le, 26, murdered in southern Nevada residence. _She hurriedly skimmed the short article, then gathered the clippings together and placed them into an evidence collection bag.

The second box was larger than the others. It was black, and bore no markings on the outside as to the brand of the shoes is contained. She opened the lid and gasped in surprise for the second time that day. "Oh Sara," she murmured quietly "why didn't you tell me?"


	4. Unspoken Promises Wrapped in Lace

**Author's Note: I know that I haven't done an author's note for a long time, so here you go. I am so happy that you guys like my story. I really didn't expect such a response from you and I'm really glad that I got one! I'm enjoying writing this fic as much as you are enjoying reading it! (I hope ) thanks again everyone! And please R/R again!**

The tattered lace and silk formed a frightening tableau against the beige carpet. A rainbow of color and sequins. The panties were shredded, and covered in what looked like blood; flowering stains like crimson poppies in a wind-swept field. As Catherine gingerly pushed them aside she noticed something that made her stomach lurch. Each pair had a message, scrawled across them in black ink. The messages were cryptic and terrifying. "Seek the light if you dream of flight," and "Cradle the Dove with the Broken Wings." She pushed them away gently, not wanting to destroy the evidence, but not able to bear the sight of them for another moment.

The other items inside the box made her shudder; a thin cord formed a deadly noose, a plastic doll bound with rags, her empty sockets gazing vacantly outward. Someone had stalked Sara, followed her, and tormented her. At the very bottom of the box lay a ring; it looked like solid gold with a single, blood-red ruby in the solitaire setting. It was exquisite even while it was horrifying. Who was this man? Why did he target Sara?

Suddenly, a soft sound emanated throughout the house. The front door was opening… had she left it unlocked? She quickly reached for the pistol holstered to her hip. Quietly she stepped out of the bedroom, and waited at the entrance to the living room at the end of the hall. Her back pressed up against the cool, white stucco, as she listened intently for a sign from the intruder. She heard a drawer open, and papers rustling like dry leaves. A floorboard creaked beneath her feet and she froze. Not a sound disturbed the complete silence that followed.

"Okay" she mouthed to herself "On Three."

"One" she gripped the cool, metallic handle of her service revolver tightly.

"Two" she strained to discern the location of the suspect.

"Three" she quickly flipped the safety on her pistol and whipped around the corner simultaneously shouting "Las Vegas Crime Lab, freeze!"

Catherine was surprised not only to find an identical gun pointed at her as well, but to see that her "intruder" was none other than Gil Grissom.

"Jesus, Gil, you scared the hell out of me!"

"I could say the same Cath, what are you doing here without backup?"

"The same as you I expect. Finding answers. I think I've found some pretty big ones too."

"What is it?"

After showing Grissom the box she had found, Catherine collected it and walked into the living room. Gil followed close behind her, silent as if deep in concentration.

He was thinking about the soft glow of the mid-day sun on her skin. Thinking of the way her smile lit up her face with a maiden-like glow. He was imagining a life where they were not coworkers, where a relationship wouldn't be out of the question. He tried to shake himself from such reflection, but the thoughts lingered like wisps of smoke in his mind. God, she was beautiful.

"Penny for your thoughts" Catherine said as they walked onto the lawn.

"I'm not sure they're worth that much" he laughed.

"Oh, come on Gil. Just talk to me."

"Well, I was thinking about Sara; and about her killer. I just don't get it."

She looked at him skeptically but replied "I know, but we will soon, I promise, I don't get it either."

Gil dismissed the feeling of guilt he felt in lying to her, but she could never know the truth. Her friendship and support meant too much to him to throw it away on some silly infatuation. Besides, it is not as if she could ever reciprocate his feelings, no woman he loved ever had. As least that is what he told himself as he watched the way the sunlight danced in her hair.

Catherine stole a brief glance at Grissom's face and saw it lined with concentration and worry. She longed to smooth it, to make him smile, but she pushed those feelings aside. Those emotions had to be compartmentalized and stored away, to collect dust in the recesses of her mind, never to be acted upon. As least that is what she told herself as she wrapped her arms around Gil's neck and kissed him, squarely on the mouth.

END NOTE: Sighs. Wow. That's done. I hope you guys are ok with the way I've set this up. I was a little unsure, but then I just went with it. What the heck, I mean, it's gotta come sometime right? Well, thanks again! O and by the way there is a little purplish-blue button down there for you to review so please do!


	5. Overture to Confession

**Author's Note: I deeply apologize for not updating in so long, I was pretty stuck with the story, and I needed a break to figure things out. But here we are again, and I have finally found the answer to my many questions. I know, I know… this one is pretty short…but I'll be sure to update soon k! Thanks for sticking with me, and I hope I don't disappoint!**

"I-I'm sorry." Catherine stammered as she pulled away from her supervisor. She turned her face away from him, towards the gravel drive where their vehicles were parked, her cheeks flushed a becoming pink. Grissom was silent, too shocked by her spontaneous kiss to speak.

She looked up at him quickly, waiting for him to say something, anything, to break the awkward silence. She cleared her throat.

"It's okay," Grissom spoke abruptly, "perfectly understandable. We're all under a lot of stress."

"That's not it!" Catherine cried immediately.

"Don't worry about it Cath, I won't speak of it again."

With this, Grissom walked towards his Denali, waved briefly, and drove away. Catherine walked over to her car, unlocked the door, and climbed in. Once inside, she slumped over the wheel, her arms cradling her head over the hot plastic. Why did she kiss Gil? What was wrong with her? Maybe it was just the stress, but she really felt like there was something between them, some sort of connection. Does he feel it too?

"Stop," she chided herself "this can never go anywhere, so just stop thinking about him!" She suddenly remembered the crucial evidence she carried, and drove quickly to the lab to process it.

After delivering the box to DNA, Warrick Brown met her outside of an interrogation room.

"Hey Catherine, what's up with the case?"

"I just found something big, I'll give you the lab results once I get them back from Greg, okay?"

"Hey, are you alright? You seem a little tense."

She shrugged and sighed, "Yeah, I'm fine. Just stressed, you know."

"Yeah, I know. Try not to take it home with you okay?"

"Thanks Warrick." Catherine replied as she stepped into the staff room.

Grissom was not finding it easy to forget the spontaneous kiss that morning. He kept picturing the soft brush of her hair on his cheek and the feel of her warm breath upon his lips. He mentally shook himself, but could not shake the overwhelming desire he felt for his coworker and friend.

He walked to the staff room briskly, intending to stifle this passion in an enormous cup of the expensive blend of coffee Greg preferred. He was apprehensive and yet, on another level, pleased to see that Catherine inside. She was sitting at the table, her head bent over a sheaf of papers, oblivious to the sounds of the lab around her. He stepped inside and touched her shoulder, startling her.

"Cath, I think we need to talk…" he began.

"Don't worry about it Gil, I was just stressed out and not thinking. I'm sorry if I made you feel uncomfortable."

"No, I think it's more than that Catherine. I need to tell you something. For a long time now, I've been thinking about you, and about our friendship. I know now that I…"

Greg Sanders burst in, his spiky hair tousled and wild, his hands clutching a manila folder.

"Sorry to interrupt, but we've got a problem."

"What is it?" Catherine and Grissom asked simultaneously.

"It's the DNA report on the box you sent over…" he looked them both in the eyes "you guys need to come see this right away."

**End Note: Haha. You guys will never guess what it is! I'm excited. Are you excited? Please oh please oh please review! Reviews keep me going! They are my very nourishment and the absolute air that I breathe. Ok, now I am waxing pathetic. Thanks again for your amazingness. Love you all! OpheliaSpeaks**


	6. A Surprising Turn for the Worst

Catherine and Grissom followed Greg down the immaculate central hallway of the lab. A passing receptionist's three-inch heels tapped out a satisfying _click-click_ on the polished floor, the syncopated rhythm matched the expectant and excited beating of their hearts. With an exaggerated flourish, Greg showed them into the DNA lab. He ran a shaking hand through his spiky hair, and both Catherine and Grissom noticed this startling change in their friend's demeanor.

"What's up Greg?" Catherine asked, her brow knit in confusion and worry.

"I ran the contents of the box you brought in from Sara's closet. It's not good, guys."

"What is it?" Grissom asked impatiently.

"Some of the underwear had DNA evidence on them. There was semen, but it was almost all pre-ejaculate. This guy knew what he was doing. No viable DNA matches could be made from that."

Catherine interrupted, "You said almost. Did you get a match or not?"

"Slow down. I was just getting to that. Now here's the shocker…one sample was viable. I tested against all available databases, and that's where we have a problem."

Grissom could feel his patience quickly evaporating. "Just spell it out Greg!"

"Ok, ok. The hit I got was on the Law Enforcement database. Our perp is a cop."

Catherine inhaled sharply and brought her shaking hand to her temple.

"You didn't get a perfect match?" she asked quietly.

"No, all we know is that the killer was once, or still is a member of Vegas law enforcement. Hell, he could be LVPD for all we know."

"Shit!" Grissom spit out bitterly. "This is just perfect."

Catherine glanced worriedly at him, longing to smooth the wrinkles from his brow. Greg was right, this complicated things. Now, in addition to searching for the killer of a friend, they were searching for one of their own.

"Cops killing cops," she thought to herself "how much worse can this get?"


	7. Searching for Hope

Across town, the flickering yellow light from a lone street lamp lit the vacant parking lot of the old Laundromat. A tall young woman cursed quietly to herself as she searched through her purse for the key to lock up for the night. She finally fished them out triumphantly and fumbled with the lock for a few moments. At last, the tumblers struck home with a rusty _clunk_. The woman turned away wearily and began the short walk to her nearby apartment with a tired sigh.

Even from across the street, he could see how pretty she was. Her auburn hair gleamed in the moonlight, streaks of fiery red twinkling along with the stars. Through his high-powered binoculars he sized her up. Shapely calves and hips were evident even beneath the shapeless sack of a dress she was wearing. He hesitated before skimming over her body to her face. He was afraid of what he might see there. He knew she would not be good enough. None of them would ever be as faultless as Sara had been. This girl had a sweet, dimpled chin, full cheeks and lips…He groaned audibly when he reached her eyes.

"Damn…" he whispered. "Blue."

No, she wasn't perfect, not like the first one, but she would have to do.

He silently closed the blinds in the empty apartment across the street, padded across the matted shag carpet, and closed the door behind him with a gentle shove. It wasn't difficult for him to follow the girl. She was oblivious to the barely perceptible footfalls of her pursuer. She had no idea that she was not alone when she entered the dimly lit stairwell of her apartment building; Or that a silent presence observed her nightly rituals from her fire escape, his hands clenching repeatedly in anticipation of this long-awaited kill. His soft laughter stroked the night like velvet.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The shrill ring of the telephone next to her bed awoke Catherine from her fitful slumber. The glowing face of her alarm clock read 2:45 AM. Catherine groaned and picked up the phone.

"Hello?" she whispered huskily.

"Cath? It's Grissom." The voice of her friend came quickly on the other end.

She could hear the note of worry and concern in his voice even in so few words. She knew that she loved him, had always loved him, ever since he stood up for her with Eddie. Ever since he believed in her when no one else could.

"What's wrong?" she asked, her attention suddenly focused upon her supervisor's voice.

She heard him sigh, and then answer "There's been another murder, Catherine. It looks like the same guy who killed Sara. Same MO, same look…hell, the girl could be Sara's sister for God's sake."

Catherine inhaled sharply, "Where?" she asked abruptly.

"The Strip, I'll text the address to you once I get there."

"I'll be there as soon as I can get there Gil." She replied.

"Okay…" he answered, not wanting to hang up, knowing there was nothing left to say.

"Gil?" she asked quietly

"Yes Catherine?"

"Wait for me, okay?"

"I'll always wait for you" he answered.

As she hung up the phone, one thought plagued her thoughts:

Oh God…not again.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Grissom sat in the driver's seat of his Denali after processing the scene with her, his head resting heavily against his arms crossed over the steering wheel. He looked up at the sound of Catherine stowing her kit in the car behind him. Thank God she's here, he thought to himself. He stepped out and shut the door quickly behind him as Catherine rushed up to him. One look at her and he knew what she was thinking. It amazed him how tuned to her he was, how well he could read her in one glance, or with one word. Her brows were knit in concern, her blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears. But whether they were tears of sorrow or of fear, he knew not.

"Grissom…" she whispered, her voice breaking with emotion.

"I know Cath, I know. You're scared, and tired of this nightmare. Trust me, I am too. But we have a job to do; we can talk about this later okay?"

He reached out to pat her on the shoulder, but instead wrapped her into a warm embrace, his hands smoothing her sleep-rumpled hair.

"Shh…Shh…" he whispered, soothingly. "It's okay."

"But it's not okay" Catherine sobbed, "It can never be okay as long as…" she stopped abruptly, tears falling silently down her pale cheeks.

"As long as what?" he asked hesitantly, not sure if he was ready for her answer; not sure if he could live without hearing it.

"As long as we're apart" she replied, looking up into eyes filled with matching tears of uncertainty, fear and a persistent sense of hope.


	8. Lifting the Shroud of Secrecy

**Author's Note: Whew! Two updates in two days... during finals week! This is really doing a number on me... but it's so worth it to see this story finally developing! Wa-hoo! Anyways... I hope you enjoy this, and I'll update as soon as I can.**

**Disclaimer: O how I wish I owned these characters... but I don't. Damn. Still waiting on them for my 18th birthday present though! crosses fingers o...**

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Countless thoughts flew through Catherine's mind at lightning speed. Her heart raced, and she realized she was making an idiot of herself. She pulled away abruptly, leaving Grissom with outstretched arms and a look of bewilderment and shock on his face. Look at him, she thought to herself, he doesn't know what to say without hurting me; I'm such a fool.

"I'm going to the lab, I guess it'll be an all-nighter for me." She murmured.

"Cath--" Grissom started to say how much he needed her, and needed to hear that, but she stopped him by placing her fingers over his lips.

"Don't--" she cried, barely containing her tears. "Please—just don't. I know how you feel…I understand perfectly."

Before he could reply she turned and walked briskly towards her Denali. Grissom stood and watched as she pulled away, her headlights cutting a broad swath across the hot Vegas morning.

"Damn…" he whispered to himself.

* * *

Back at the lab, Catherine sat at a table in the evidence room, bathed in the cool fluorescent lighting that cast bright pools of illumination around the room. She cradled her aching head in her hands, rubbing circles over her throbbing temples with her fingertips. She glanced up at the cause of her headache; A bright, white evidence box containing the remnants of her friend's life…and death. To be completely honest, it wasn't the only cause. Catherine was worried about Grissom, and about her impromptu confession to him. Stupid fool, she chided, you've scared the wits out of him. She ran her hand across the lid of the box, memorizing the smooth texture of it under her palm. One last deep breath, she thought, and then I'll do it. She inhaled deeply before gently removing the lid of the ominous box.

"Here goes nothing." She whispered.

One by one she removed the items from the box, placing the evidence bags in haphazard rows across the empty table. She gingerly traced Grissom's spidery handwriting scrawled across the evidence seal of one bag, her heart beating harder with each letter.

"Stop!" she told herself. "You're here for one reason, and one reason only. To find out who's doing this. So just stop thinking about him!"

Her eyes scanned the evidence, searching for something, _anything, _that would lead her to the truth. Her hand paused over one bag in particular, smaller than the rest. She knew what this bag held. She brushed a fingertip over the familiar signature on the evidence seal. She had cataloged this nearly a week ago, she thought to herself. I can do this, she reminded herself, I know I can. She silently opened the bag and gently emptied its contents into her palm. The gold of Sara's locket twinkled bewitchingly under the harsh lights, bringing a lump to Catherine's throat.

"Sara…" she whispered as she traced the delicate engravings across the lid of the small, heart-shaped necklace. Her thumbnail found the small catch on the side of the pendant, and it sprung open, surprising her. Inside was a faded picture of a girl, her thick, auburn curls tied up in ribbons. Even through her tear-filled eyes, Catherine could see that it was Sara; Her defiant gaze and impish smile had never changed, had they? Next to her, though, stood someone Catherine could not identify. A boy, about Sara's age, stared boldly from the photograph. His eyes seemed to cut right through her, as if he were… No, Catherine laughed to herself, it can't be.

"I really need to get some sleep," she laughed to herself "I'm starting to go crazy here."

She paused before closing the locket to brush away some lingering dust from the picture. Her finger paused as she felt something...strange. A small lump, or bulge of some kind disturbed the smoothness of the image. Catherine gently pried the tiny photograph from out of the locket, silently apologizing to her friend for the act. Underneath lay a single lock of deep, brown hair. The color of warm earth, she thought to herself…but not Sara's hair. Suddenly a thought came to her, and she hurriedly packed away the remaining evidence before dashing out of the room, the locket, photograph, and lock of hair trapped within her clenched fist.

* * *

"Greg! I'm glad you're still here." She exclaimed as she reached the DNA lab.

"I was just working on some of the labs on tonight's case. What can I do for you, Catherine?" He asked wearily. The numerous hours spent over his microscope had not been kind to Greg, and the purple shadows beneath his usually bright eyes surprised Catherine.

"I'm sorry to dump something else on you, but this really can't wait. I found this lock of hair in Sara's locket behind the picture. Can you analyze the DNA for me?"

"Of course I can. It'll be a while, though, Grissom put a rush on the DNA from tonight." He replied.

"Please, Greg? This is really important. I'm sure Grissom won't mind once we get the results."

"Okay, but don't say I didn't warn you." He added, with a mischievous grin.

"If Gil comes to you on a rampage, send him to me, okay?"

"You got it."

With that, Catherine walked out of the lab and made her way to the lounge to catch a few moments of sleep before continuing the night's work. As soon as her head touched the arm of the couch, however, she was dead to the world.

"Catherine?" A familiar voice intruded upon her slumber, carrying a tone of anger and impatience.

"Catherine! Wake up!"

"Mmm--" she mumbled, rubbing her eyes sleepily before looking up into the angry face of Grissom.

"What's the meaning of putting a hold on my labs!" He asked angrily.

"Gil--" she began, but her cut her off.

"You know how important this is, we can't afford to screw it up by letting this evidence sit. This guy could walk if we're not careful. And for another thing--"

"Wait!" she interrupted impatiently "Just hear me out okay? I found something big."

"I'm listening." He replied.

"Okay—listen to this."

* * *

**End Note: I'm really hoping to finish this fic in about three more chapters! I'm on a roll here, so expect updates really soon... as long as you review, that is! Please, please, review! sighs I just love GC!**


	9. Lies Exposed

**Author's Note: Yes! My third update in as many days. I am so good, it's scary. Just kidding. Wow. I am so overwhelmed with your reviews. Ok, that was an exaggeration. I need more before I can justify updating again, seriously…just review. It's painless… not like a shot, I promise.**

**Disclaimer: Oh I wish I owned CSI and its characters… but I don't. Damn.**

Grissom paced anxiously across the cool confines of the CSI lounge. He counted the drips of the coffee maker until it came in a constant stream, no longer matching the rhythm of his footsteps against the scuffed linoleum. He ran a hand through his tousled hair groggily. Biting his lip, he awaited the fresh cup of coffee that would allow him to continue working through the day.

He glanced across the room at Catherine, still asleep on the old, bedraggled couch. She had told him to wake her if she fell asleep, but he didn't have the heart. She looked so peaceful and vulnerable lying there, that he could only watch her. A stray lock of her strawberry blonde hair had escaped from her messy bun and lay across her face. He reached toward her and tenderly tucked it behind her ear. She breathed a tiny, feminine sigh and his heart nearly melted. How he wished that things were different. That Sara had not been murdered, that he was free to confess all of his feelings for Catherine to her. Honesty was not an option he could take right now. How could he tell her the truth? Not only about himself, but about everything.

He stood from his current position, crouched over Catherine, and walked over to pour a cup of the freshly-brewed coffee. Finally, he thought, I can get started again. The strong, bitter scent permeated the small room, and soon reached Catherine. She awoke with a start, her hair and clothes rumpled. To Grissom, she looked altogether disheveled and lovely.

"What time is it?" she demanded.

"Around 9:30 or 10:00 in the morning." Grissom replied patiently.

"Why didn't you wake me?" She cried angrily.

"You needed the sleep." He answered simply "And besides, until Greg comes through with the DNA on that hair you found, we've got nothing to do. I thought it better if you got some rest in before the real work starts."

She started to say that he had been wrong, that she wanted to be awake in case anything happened, but stopped herself. He had been thinking of her best interest, and that touched her. Grissom, if nothing else, was a true friend.

"Thanks…" she muttered sheepishly.

"No problem. Here, have a cup of coffee." He poured her a steaming mug and handed it to her carefully.

"Thank you, Gil."

Their eyes met over the rims of their coffee cups, mutual smiles of contentment mixed with weariness on their faces. A shrill beeping sounded from the pager clipped to Catherine's hip, breaking the silence of the moment. She glanced quickly at the screen.

"It's Greg." She told him. "Let's go."

They made their way through the brightly lit halls of the lab, barely pausing to greet Nick and Warrick as they passed by. When they reached the DNA lab, Greg was in a state of obvious distress. His spiky hair was unkempt and chaotic from the long night, and the faint shadows Catherine had noticed before were now vivid indigo crescents.

"What do you have for us, Greg?" Grissom asked upon entering the room.

"The DNA's back on your hair sample… and I have bad and, well, interesting news."

"Well?" Catherine asked a tad impatiently.

"The sample couldn't provide me with a positive I.D. I just didn't have enough DNA there to work with, I'm sorry."

"Can you at least rule it out as the suspect?" Catherine asked.

"No. There are enough alleles in common that I can't rule it out. But it's not a match, mind you."

"Is that the bad news?" Grissom cut in. "Then what's the interesting news?"

"The only thing I could gather from this data is…" he hesitated before saying "Well, see for yourself."

He handed printouts to both Grissom and Catherine, the spikes of the common alleles highlighted and immediately apparent to both of them.

"Wait…this doesn't mean that…" Catherine began.

"Yes." Greg replied.

"But how can that be? Are you sure this data is accurate?" she continued.

"I triple checked this. I wasn't ready to believe it either, but DNA doesn't lie."

Catherine slumped into an empty computer chair nearby, pushing a shaking hand through her hair. She glanced at Grissom, who remained oddly quiet at this shocking news, his face an unreadable mask.

"I can't believe it…Sara had…"

"A brother." Grissom finished.

She flashed a momentary glance at his face and was surprised at the determination and stoicism she saw there. He didn't seem surprised at all…in fact…

"Gil…" she started, hesitantly.

He simply looked her directly in the eyes, revealing everything and nothing at once.

"Oh my god. You knew. You knew all along didn't you?"

There was nothing to say. He had hoped with all of his heart that it wouldn't come to this. That she would never find out, and that he could go on in this blissful state of deceit. Happiness never lasts, he thought to himself bitterly.

"I can't believe this!" she exclaimed. "How could you keep this from me? From everyone? Don't you realize how this has compromised the case? You can't withhold evidence that pertains to the case, Grissom."

"Don't you think I know that? Believe me, I do. I've wanted to tell you, really I have, but I just couldn't. If I thought it had any bearing on the case I would have told you right from the start, but it doesn't."

"I think it does, Gil." She said, bitterly. "I really think it does. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a lot of work to do."

"Can't you just hear me out, Cath? Please?" He pleaded with her, his eyes imploring her to listen to reason.

"I'm really not in the mood to listen to more of your lies, Gil. You've hurt me before, and you'll hurt me again. But this time you've crossed the line. You withholding this information is a little too much for me to take right now." She cried, before storming out of the room in a rage.

Grissom could do nothing, say nothing. Why did this have to happen? He kept asking himself. But he already knew the answer. He knew that this secret would catch up to him someday, he just never knew how much it would hurt. He also knew what he must do, there was no other option. He had to talk with Sara's brother. What a nightmare, he thought to himself before stalking quietly out of the room, feeling rather than seeing the pain Catherine's anger had left in his heart.

His stomach lurched. There he was. Sara's brother, in the flesh. Oh how he wished things could be different. But this had to be done before Catherine found out. It could only hurt her even more than he already had, and Grissom didn't know if he could bear it.

"Well, here goes nothing…" he murmured to himself. "Hey Nick!" he shouted to the CSI Three in the lounge. "I need to talk to you for a moment."

**End Note: Shocking, huh? Yep. That's right. Nick is Sara's bro. I know what you're thinking… gross, right? Well give me a break. I was stuck and this is going to work out fine. Just you wait. You'll never guess where this goes. Only I know… and "I'll never tell…"**


	10. Truth Revealed

Nick Stokes was not one to flinch at his supervisor's steely voice, but when he heard Grissom calling for him, he couldn't help but cringe. He knew. He knew and he was going to ask Nick the one question he could never answer. He braced himself for the terse interrogation he knew followed.

"Oh Sara," he thought, "what have we done?"

As Grissom entered the staff room he could see that Nick was uncomfortable, nervous even, under his scrutiny. He walked over to the chair across the table from him and sat with an air of necessity.

"Nick, we need to talk. About Sara."

"I know, Gris, but what you need to know, I can't tell you. Not right now…maybe not ever. "

"At least let me ask you this: Did you have anything at all to do with Sara's murder?"

"No! Of course not, how could you ask me that, she's my sister!"

Grissom mentally went over the adoption papers he had stumbled across in a case a few months ago that placed Sara Sidle solely in the care of the Stokes family. He was naturally shocked, yet he felt anxious about confronting either of them with the news. It was really none of his business; he had merely come upon the information by coincidence.

"Do you know who did this to her?" He asked with a piercing stare in Nick's direction.

"Grissom..."

Nick sighed and ran a shaking hand across his head, feeling the slight bristle of his fresh buzz cut. He knew what he had to say. He knew that if he didn't tell his boss he'd be off the force, and maybe under criminal investigation. He knew all of that, but he couldn't help but hesitate.

'Sara made me promise.' he thought to himself. 'What do I do?'

Nick could remember the way her eyes shone when Sara had told him. He remembered the smell of her shampoo in the air and the way her tears fell onto the slightly wrinkled paper in her hands.

"Nick, I didn't know who else to come to. I'm sorry for bothering you with this."

"It's fine Sara. You know I'm always here for you; so what is it?"

Her hands shook as she handed him the paper. Nick gave her a quizzical look filled with questions and worry. He glanced at the paper, started, and then read it intently several times, his eyes growing more and more grim by the second.

"Where did you get this information?" He asked briskly.

"Does it matter? All that matters is that he's alive...he's alive and he'll come for me. I know he will." Sara's voice shook with adrenaline and fear.

"You don't know that for sure. You can't. Why would he come for you Sara?"

"Because he knows that I saw him!" She stood quickly, her voice raised and hoarse, "He knows I'll turn him in for what he did to my mother, and he'll kill me before that happens."

"I just don't understand..." Nick shook his head and looked up at her "How can he be alive, you saw him kill himself...didn't you?"

"Actually..." Sara slumped onto the couch of the break room at the lab, her tears spent, she was exhausted. "I didn't exactly see him...kill himself. He ran out of the house...I heard a shot...I don't know, I just assumed I guess."

"You haven't let this go have you?" Nick asked gently "You never let it rest...you've been searching all this time?"

"Yes." Sara sighed. "I'm sorry I never told you. But I had to know. I had to find him, and now I have. It's only a matter of time before he returns the favor."

Nick knew she was right, yet he refused to admit it to her. For years he had tried to protect her, even agreed to hide their relation from everyone so she could have a fair chance at the lab. He'd helped her to regain everything, and loved her as his own sister. But this...he wasn't sure he could protect her from an evil that no one even knew existed.

"Promise me you'll keep this to yourself." Sara whispered fervently. "Promise not to investigate, don't go probing...It'll only lead to trouble. Just drop this, and let me handle it."

"You're not going to do anything stupid are you?" He asked quietly...earnestly.

Sara looked at him lovingly, "No, Nick...I won't."

"Then I promise."

Nick sighed. He had to tell Grissom. But breaking a promise to Sara, especially now, was going to be hard.

"Okay, Gris, I'll tell you it all...from the beginning."

From outside the break room Catherine saw the two of them talking. Nick's face hardened and etched with sadness; a stark contrast with Grissom's calm and stoic facade. She knew that whatever they were discussing was serious, and she had a feeling it would turn everything upside down.

A few hours later she sat at her desk, her mind racing as she looked over the crime scene photos again and again. Maybe something would jump out at her, she thought, so she reviewed them endlessly.

A knock on the open door made her look up. In the doorway stood Grissom, tired, haggard and silent. Only his eyes spoke to her...told her of his need and of his pain. Immediately she stood and quickly grabbed her purse and jacket from the table. She took Grissom's hand in her own, and steered him toward the parking lot and into her car. Tonight, what Gil needed more than anything was companionship, physical contact, and love, and Catherine was more than willing to provide all three.


	11. Uncertain Futures

The sound of the key in the lock brought Grissom out of shock. He was standing in the entryway of Catherine's house, and she was holding his hand, looking at him with need and an animalistic hunger in her eyes. What was he doing here? This couldn't happen. Not now…not ever. But the way she was looking at him made him think twice about turning right around and walking out the door.

"Gil…" her voice was a throaty whisper. "Come to bed with me."

Just that one statement took his breath away. The moonlight from the adjacent window shone milky white upon her soft skin. Could he resist this woman tonight? Could he turn away from the promise of a night, just one night, with the woman he'd been in love with for years? The answer came all too quickly.

"Show me the way."

The brush of Catherine's lips was the only answer that night. The taste of her skin and the enticing smell of her hair was the only thing real. Their bodies moved together in the night as if they were made for one another.

Catherine gasped as she realized the beauty of the moment. Grissom was here with her, at last. No more avoidance or pain, all she had to look forward to was a lifetime of Gil…always.

She lay in Grissom's arms with that thought in mind as he tenderly stroked her hair and back. The soft glow of dawn greeted the sated lovers as they drifted to sleep.

"Gil…" Catherine glanced up at him tenderly as he dressed.

"What's wrong?" he asked hurriedly, his face etched with worry.

"I need to know."

A simple statement, and yet it held so many meanings. He knew what she wanted. He knew that she needed to know about the case; about Nick, about Sara's father. But most of all he knew the one thing she wanted most, and yet he could not answer. She needed to hear from him what was to become of them. And that was the one thing he did not know.

"Okay Cath…I'll tell you everything."

The sun was streaming through the windows as Grissom finished telling her about the case. Every tiny detail he covered, and when Catherine had questions he answered them patiently. She had a right to know, after all.

"Grissom" Catherine began after he had finished. "What about us?"

"I don't know yet." He replied with a tired sigh. His eyes were filled with a mixture of pain and a tinge of sadness.

" I- I love you!" She nearly shouted her declaration to him while tears streamed down her cheeks.

"Cath…" Grissom wiped her tears away with the pad of his thumb, tenderly caressing her smooth skin. "I love you too. But I don't know where we're going from here. Just give it time. Not too much longer, but we need to give it time, okay?"

She nodded slowly. "Okay." But inside she secretly hoped it would be soon. There was no telling when this killer would strike again, and she knew she needed Gil by her side if she was to make it through this again.


End file.
